


On the Clock

by ashinan smut (ashinan)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan%20smut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony likes propositions. Steve likes teasing. They both forget about the toaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the delightful Abby's birthday!

Holograms hang heavy in air as Tony flicks through each one, dragging up code as he bites into the screwdriver between his teeth. A half dismantled toaster sits on the bench behind him, its wiring yanked free and redone, almost at the final stage. He turns and glares at it. If Thor hadn’t been standing beside it when Tony had ventured upstairs, he would never have known of its inability to toast PopTarts to maximum efficiency. The anguish on Thor’s face when his PopTart popped up burnt was enough to send Tony scurrying back to his workshop, toaster tucked under his arm.

And now, he stands amongst files and schematics and codes, wondering why a toaster  _he built_  is refusing to toast correctly.

He picks up the rebellious piece of machinery right as the side door opens. Tony doesn’t bother looking, knows from the footsteps that it’s Steve, and yanks the screwdriver out of his mouth to poke it around the insides. The program beeps its completion and Tony tosses the screwdriver on the bench to drag out the code, catching numbers against his fingers that reflect in his eyes.

Steve slips up behind him, hands warm as they slide around his waist and splay big over his stomach. He leans back, his mouth already moving, “Did you know that Thor apparently has been eating burnt PopTarts for the last three weeks? And he refused to tell any of us? Because he didn’t want to offend the toasters’ sensibilities. What is that?”

Tony leans his head back and Steve presses his mouth to the skin behind Tony’s ear. “I have a proposition for you.”

Code swirls into place in front of Tony, inquiring about further action. “I like propositions.”

Steve spins him, fast, catches him before he stumbles, and kisses him. Tony stalls, fingers still lifted to press _Repeat_ on the program, before his brain switches gears and he kisses Steve back. It’s surprisingly chaste, just a simple brush of lips, and then Steve’s pulling back.

When Tony finally looks at him, he’s surprised by how dark Steve’s eyes are, the blue giving ground to black. Tony opens his mouth to ask, curiosity tangling with sudden lust, but Steve pushes closer into his space. His hand slips up around Tony’s throat, thumb digging light into the underside of Tony’s jaw as he tilts his head up. Tony groans against the pressure, mouth opening as he waits for Steve’s kiss. The toaster is squashed between them but Tony can’t seem to let it go, his raised hand joining the other around the metal frame.

“I have a meeting with SHIELD in an hour,” Steve says, lips brushing against Tony’s with every word. His fingers tighten a fraction and Tony’s eyes flutter. “I’m trying to decide whether to fuck you before or after.”

That punches a noise out of Tony, sharp and heady, and Steve grins. Tony licks his lips and Steve’s breath startles in his chest. “I like the first option, I am completely all for it. We haven’t fucked in the workshop yet, have we? We need to fix that, now, let’s do that now.”

Steve shakes his head, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of Tony’s throat, before he ducks his head. Tony catches his lips eagerly and sucks his tongue into his mouth. Steve hums against him. He maps out the inside of Tony’s mouth, deepening the kiss and turning it filthy. Tony pushes closer, but the toaster is a presence between them that Tony didn’t account for. He tries to let it go, he does, but Steve slips a hand down his side and under his shirt, fingers spreading wide over the slip of his back, and he’s distracted all over again. Steve licks into his mouth with a single focus, to obviously short-circuit Tony’s brain, and he can feel the numbers crashing.

When they break apart, Steve immediately tilts Tony’s head to the side. He breathes sharp against Tony’s ear, sucks a bruise into the soft skin just under, and drags his hand down until it’s covering the arc reactor. Tony shudders against him, waiting, the sharp bite of anticipation a shiver up his spine. Steve nips at the corner of his jaw and drops to his knees.

Tony has about three seconds to miss Steve’s warmth before Steve is shoving up his shirt, his tongue hot against the expanse of Tony’s belly. He gasps, hefting the toaster up and out of the way. Steve looks up at him, teeth finding the sharp indent of Tony’s hip. His fingers catch against soft cotton and he drags Tony’s sweats down, just enough that the tip of Tony’s cock shows. Tony can’t breathe, his words locked somewhere inside his chest, and Steve licks a quick stripe over the slit. Tony twitches forward, pulls back, and Steve slips both hands under Tony’s sweats to grip his ass. His tongue works at the skin around Tony’s cock, never close enough to actually touch again, and Tony’s legs shake with the effort not to buck against him.

There’s a bench behind him, Steve a wall of steel in front, and every swipe of Steve’s tongue, every brush of his lips, sends Tony spiralling higher. The cotton of his sweats pulls against his cock, nowhere near enough friction, and the whine bubbles over his lips without his consent. Steve stops sucking bruises into the skin around Tony’s bellybutton to look up at him again.

“I can’t decide if you’re working me to the finale or if you’re actually going to fuck me,” Tony says, breathless, and Steve grins at him. His tongue swipes over the bite mark on Tony’s hip before he tilts his head to the side and takes Tony in his mouth.

Tony shouts, almost smacks himself in the face with the toaster, and clutches it giddily to his chest. Steve hums, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive skin under the head, and Tony tries to shimmy his hips, tries to get his sweats further down his thighs, but Steve stops him when he pulls back.

“Don’t move,” he rasps, and Tony’s mouth goes dry. Steve fingers dig into the meat of his ass, pulling him forward as he sucks hard on the head. Tony bites his lip until pain mixes heavy with the intense pleasure. Steve’s hands drag down his ass and his sweats slip until they catch against his balls. He shakes with it, wondering if Steve will notice if he shifts  _just that much_ , and when he tries, Steve drags his fingers over his hole.

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ ,” Tony hiccups. Steve rubs back and forth, and Tony clenches, wanting. Steve sucks him down and rubs hard against the sensitive stretch of Tony’s hole. He gasps out Steve’s name, fingers cramping against the metal frame of the toaster, and he wants it, he wants Steve to open him up fast but leave him tight, wants him to drag that burn through him with every thrust. Steve dips the tip of one finger inside, hollows his cheeks as he comes back up, and Tony’s like a bow pulled taunt. He can feel every equation focused on Steve, every thought, every schematic, every goddamn movement, finely tuned to the suck and pull of Steve’s mouth on him, to the drag and dip of his fingers. His body can’t figure out which way to move, eager to open up for more fingers, but needing the slick suction of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re –  _ah_  – you need to decide,” Tony gasps. Steve looks up at him, tongues at the slit before pulling back. His mouth is spit slick and shining and his voice grates when he speaks.

“I think I’ll fuck you after.”

“You son of a –” Tony chokes off as Steve swallows him down, his lips stretching delicious around Tony’s cock. He breathes sharp through his noise, keens when Steve takes him to the root. There’s a heady spiral of heat in his lower belly, gathering fire, and he lets his body roll with it. His hips jerk and Steve allows him that, fingers bumping harsh against the spasm of Tony’s hole. He wants all of it, now,  _now_ , wants Steve inside of him, wants Steve to continue sucking him, wants to be so full that it  _hurts_. He cants his hips, tries to take Steve’s fingers dry because he just doesn’t care, he just wants to feel it, and Steve denies him that. He removes a hand to splay over Tony’s stomach, fingers digging into the marks he left there and Tony chokes out a breath.

“Close,” he manages. Steve releases him like he’s burning and Tony almost topples backwards. “Why, why would you do that,  _oh my god_ , you can’t leave me like this, please, Steve, I’ll do anything.”

Steve kisses the crease of Tony’s thigh and Tony practically sobs because, no, no that’s not what he wants, how can Steve do this to him. The metal of the toaster digs into his collarbone, and he doesn’t care, because Steve isn’t sucking him anymore, is going to leave him like this until after his goddamn meeting.

There’s a moment when Tony honestly thinks Steve will, but his hand curls big over Tony’s cock and he jerks him, fast and hard. His thumb catches under the head, rubbing once before starting over again. His orgasm rushes him, knocks the numbers loose, and steals the strength from his legs. Steve gets his teeth up against Tony’s hipbone, driving another gasp from him, and he’s stripping his stomach, shouting as he comes. His eyes blink with small threes as Steve massages him through it, fingers merciless until Tony is jerking away from him.

Steve stands, then, gets his come soaked fingers in Tony's hair as he drags his head back. His mouth taste like the both of them, and it shouldn’t be a turn on, shouldn’t want to make Tony fall to his knees and beg. He gasps against the wet slide of Steve’s tongue, tries to raise a hand to brush along his cheek and realizes he’s  _still holding the fucking toaster_. Steve holds him still for a moment longer before pulling back. His lips catch sharp against Tony’s once more before retreating and Tony blinks, dazed, as Steve steps back from him.

His knees are shaking. His head is light and the numbers sluggishly inform him that he’s pretty much useless now. His stomach is sticky with cooling come and his shirt is still caught up against the edge of the arc reactor. Steve sways back into him, pressing his forehead against Tony’s shoulder as he reaches down and yanks up his sweats, dragging a soft moan from Tony before he can stop it. His hand splays wide over Tony’s stomach and Tony arches into the touch. Steve rubs his fingers against the bruises, lighting up small sparks of pleasure. He tilts his head to the side and licks against the rapid pulse in Tony’s neck. 

“The things I want to do to you,” Steve mutters. Tony hums a question, his body still shivering with the aftereffects. “I wasn’t lying, you know. The meeting should last about an hour. And then I’ll show you.”

Tony groans at the possible scenarios flickering through his mind at high speed. He tries to push closer but the toaster stops him from truly enjoying Steve’s heat. He can’t seem to make his fingers let go. Steve chuckles against his skin and pulls back. “This doesn’t really count as sex in the workshop, does it?”

Tony gapes at him. “You mean –”

“I’ll see you in an hour.” Steve drops a kiss on his nose and turns, adjusting his jeans before skirting the holograms still dancing bright in the air. Tony stares as he leaves, hypnotized by the dip of Steve’s hips, the power in his thighs, the stretch of his shoulders. Steve turns just once, as he slips through the workshops door, and gives Tony a filthy grin. Tony flicks through the dates in his mind, wondering if it’s his birthday and he fucking forgot.

The date remains stubbornly uninteresting and Tony fights to get his shirt down. He frowns at the mess against his stomach, realizes Steve  _did that on purpose_ , and gropes around for a rag of some sorts. Smears of grease do nothing to clean him and he glares down at his skin, offended. The toaster is balanced heavy against his chest and he sighs at it, wondering how he’s going to possibly get any work done when Steve had successfully sucked his brain out of his goddamn dick.

There’s a chirp and Tony blinks. Another, and he looks down. The toaster whistles at him and Tony starts laughing. “You’re going to have some fucked up parameter that makes toasting impossible now, aren’t you?”

The toaster beeps at him and Tony sets it down. He has an hour to figure out just what to do with a sentient toaster. Well, half an hour. And then he needs to figure out how best to present himself for Steve’s return. He brings up a hologram.

He’ll be ready this time. 


End file.
